


Day 15

by problematiquefave



Series: Kinktober 2018 [15]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Branding, F/M, Kinktober, Non-Consensual Branding, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: Troy is hers and Madison will make sure that everyone knows that.





	Day 15

She’s on him, he’s in her, and then _pain_ is searing through his body, through his veins and nerves and skull.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He jerks away, rolling away in the dirt, away from the fire burning in the center of their campsite. He tries to pull his jeans up but that just causes more pain. His thigh is _burning_. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He looks up at her, for sympathy or relief or whatever she can offer, and her eyes are lifeless, her lips pressed together in a thin line, and her hand releasing a smoldering stick back into the fire.

“Stop it, Troy,” she says, like a mother scolding a child. Like he’s _Nick_. But he’s not. He’s Troy and Madison isn’t he mother, she’s his _lover_.

He hobbles to his feet, finding that it’s hard to put weight on his leg. The pain stems from his outer-thigh but any sort of disturbance sets his nerves ablaze. He glares at her, tries to look the menacing part he’s always played. The violent, unstable psychopath everyone and their grandmother has always seen him as. Except Madison has always seen through that, past the chaos to the wounded animal trapped inside his skin.

Still, he asks her. “ _What did you do?_ ”

“I branded you.” Her words are flat, as if she’s just talking about the weather instead of… Instead of _branding_ a human being, a _human lover_ , like a goddamn farm animal. Maybe he gapes at her like a fish. Would anyone blame him? She sees or senses or guesses his confusion and continues before he can even ask (if he had the words to do so). “I marked you so the world would know you’re mine.”

“You think the scars aren’t enough?” he asks, his pitch a note too high, his words a little too breathy. Because he’s got scars from her, beneath his eyes and on his temple, from all the times she _punished_ him, nearly _killed_ him. But no, she’s got to brand him too.

There’s something to be said about the fact that he doesn’t grab a weapon from his bag. That he doesn’t try to hurt her in return. It’s probably not a _good thing_ to be said but it’s something. And there’s also probably something to be said about the way she ignores his outrage, about the way she swings her naked hips as she approaches him, and the way her hand touches his cheek, soft and delicate.

“I think whatever I want for you is enough,” she whispers, her voice not matching her words. Her fingers trail down his cheek, across the column of his neck, and then down to his shoulder where she presses against him. He goes down to his knees and she follows him, her hand sliding down his chest and all the way to his cock. “You’re mine. What I say goes.”

He fully realizes just how _fucked_ that is but then her hand is wrapping around him, stroking him, fast and hard and just a little too rough – the way he likes it – and thoughts besides _God_ , _holy crap_ , and _Madison_ fly out the window. Sensation dominates him the way she does, consuming him like she does. Pleasure mixes with pain; the throbbing, burning sensation on his thigh turns from _bad, wrong_ to _good, right_. And he comes, spilling over her hand with a low moan, not a thought of their dysfunction in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated and you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/).


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